


Poke And Prod

by sock_in_my_drawer



Series: Patrick/Richie/Eddie [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Barebacking, Blackmail, Dark elements, Dubious Consent, Eddie sucks his own cock, Feminization, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Patrick Hockstetter is His Own Warning, Rimming, Sexual Coercion, Slurs, The Bowers Gang is alive, Told from Patrick Hockstetter's POV, Verbal Humiliation, mentions of animal abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26618806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sock_in_my_drawer/pseuds/sock_in_my_drawer
Summary: Richie folded his arms across his chest and shot Patrick an unimpressed look. "You mind telling us why we’re breathing old vomit fumes in the back room of a second-rate carnival attraction? You want us to give you another dumb show or something?”Patrick crowded Richie against the mirror, taking advantage of their small height difference. “No show.” He ran his fingers up and down Eddie’s half-exposed thigh and slipped his thumb under the hem of his shorts. “I want in on the fun.”Or: Patrick continues his blackmail at the Canal Days festival.
Relationships: Patrick Hockstetter/Eddie Kaspbrak, Patrick Hockstetter/Richie Tozier, Patrick Hockstetter/Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak
Series: Patrick/Richie/Eddie [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936408
Comments: 36
Kudos: 94





	Poke And Prod

**Author's Note:**

> I've really struggled with my writing lately so it took me ages to finish this fic. This is a sequel to Afternoon Delight and is dedicated to a certain someone whose name I won't mention, but I hope this is everything you hoped for <3 Richie/Eddie is established in this, but I don't want my fics from this account to show up in the Reddie tag so I'm not tagging it.
> 
> Big thanks to patrick_hotstetter for the beta! Find me on Tumblr @ sockinmydrawer.tumblr.com
> 
> **You can find a list of detailed warnings at the bottom. I'm always willing to add additional tags and warnings, just let met know if you need something tagged :)**

The fridge in the junkyard had been empty since ‘89. Patrick had dumped its contents into the Kenduskeag after Henry had threatened to rat him out, but he thought of his macabre collection whenever he drove past a rotting roadkill or caught the neighbor’s cat lounging on the porch.

The itch to poke and prod at something was etched into his bones and he’d finally found something new to dissect.

A relationship, new and secret, and in a town like Derry _, dangerous_.

He kept a close eye on the little losers as they spent the final days of summer biking around town and wasting their pocket money at the new strip mall on Jackson. No queer in Derry was out and proud, but there was the occasional slip up of Richie’s fingers lingering over Eddie’s knuckles after a heated game at the arcade. And the way Eddie's shorts rode up his thighs as they stumbled out of the photo booth at the mall was downright incriminating.

His thoughts returned to his fridge, rusting away in the junkyard. Eddie was small. He’d fit right in, underneath the ice box, and kids in Derry went missing all the time. What was one more smiling face among the posters that littered the lamp posts on Main Street.

Patience had never been one of Patrick’s virtues, but he played the waiting game as the summer crawled towards a last, lame hurrah of overpriced popcorn and cheap rides erected around the canal. He trailed after his friends amid colorful booths and greasy-smelling food stands, the bottle of Jack they passed around his ticket back to Henry’s good graces.

Patrick hadn’t missed the three stooges in his exile, but Henry’s volatile nature and short fuse did offer some entertainment. The crowd before them parted like the Red Sea as Henry strode down the street, spitting out a mouthful of filth at anyone dumb enough to make eyecontact.

Patrick took a swig of whiskey and dropped his gaze to his feet as they passed a pair of clowns in garish pom pom suits _._ Something about the red-nosed assholes took him back to a half-remembered summer. A sensation of filthy water around his ankles and the words _I ♥ Derry_ on a blood red canvas, followed by a drugged out week in Derry medical center with a busted up face and a broken leg.

He stared at the canal, the bright lights from the carnival booths reflecting on the rippling water. The muggy air smelled of cotton candy and buttery popcorn, but underneath it was something damp and putrid. His eyes got stuck on one of the storm drains, yawning by the edge of the water like a hole into another dimension.

_You'll float down here._

Patrick sucked in a sharp breath, his heart racing under his ribcage. He knew fear. Had seen it in the eyes of Derry’s little social outcasts as Henry chased them around town and beat their noses bloody, but to feel it shoot through his own veins was a different beast entirely. He squeezed at the bottle, the paper bag around it rustling under his clammy palm as his pulse hammered in his ear drums, the pores on his nose pushing out cold beads of sweat.

“You okay, man?” Vic asked, watching Patrick through the veil of his blond hair.

“Huh?”

“You’re as pale as my old man before his ticker went kaput.”

Patrick tore his eyes away from the canal and took another swig of whiskey, the mouth of the bottle clacking against his teeth. “Doing it with your mom with the lights on would make any guy's heart call it quits,” he retorted.

“Fuck you, asshole,” Vic snorted, punching his fist into Patrick’s arm. He snatched the bottle from Patrick's hand and they traded a few more punches as they followed Henry to a High Striker machine.

It seemed it was time for the annual dick measuring contest.

“Get ready to lose, ladies. These guns are about to make you weep,” Henry boasted, flexing his ever-bare arms.

Belch grabbed the mallet and spun it in his hands. “Like last year?” he guffawed. “Even Hockstetter got a higher score than you!”

“Fuck you, man! You know my shoulder was all busted up from—” Henry snapped his mouth shut. His hand flew to his left shoulder, his face twisting with a phantom ache.

Belch and Vic shared an awkward look. They all knew the damage Butch Bowers could do in his drunken rage.

Patrick reached into the pocket of his denim jacket and pulled out his pack of smokes. “I don’t need Bowers' old man to dislocate his shoulder to win.”

Vic and Belch flinched at Patrick’s disregard for the forbidden topic of Henry’s homelife.

“You say something, Hockstetter?” Henry stalked over, puffing out his chest like a rabid pitbull. “You wanna fly solo again?”

Patrick flicked his zippo under his cigarette and took his time to savor the anger in Henry’s eyes. The asshole had a vicious bark, but one stern look from his crazy father took the bite right out of him. “I guess I didn’t say anything,” Patrick shrugged, sneering at Henry around his cigarette.

“Come on, are we doing this or what?” Belch asked, desperate to defuse the situation.

Henry grabbed the mallet from Belch's hands and gave it a few practice swings. “As I said, get ready to lose.” 

They’d attracted an audience of starry-eyed little sluts from Derry High, led by their queen bee. Gretta crossed her arms over her padded chest, watching them with a disdain reserved for anyone who didn’t live on West Broadway.

“I bet none of you burnouts can ring the bell,” she said through the huge wad of gum in her mouth. “Hockstetter's arms are like string beans. Can he even lift the mallet?”

Patrick leveled Gretta with a look that sent most people running, circling behind her back. He slipped his hand under her frilly top and hooked his finger around her bra strap. “You wanna give me a private workout? Help me grow in all the right places.”

Gretta squealed like a pig as Patrick let go of the elastic, snapping it against her back. “You’re such a creep, Hockstetter!” She spun on her heels, her curly ponytail swinging from shoulder to shoulder as she and her entourage disappeared into the crowd of carnival goers.

“She’s not wrong,” Belch snorted. “Hockstetter _is_ a creep.”

Henry fixed his grip on the mallet, something uncomfortable passing over his features as he watched Patrick from the corner of his eye. “You have no idea...”

None of them did. Even Henry hadn’t known about all the fun he’d had with the contents of his fridge, but poking at something lifeless didn’t compare to playing with someone who fought back.

Patrick’s mouth curled up around his cigarette as he spotted a familiar face in the crowd.

It looked like his summer was going to end with a bang. Literally.

Richie elbowed his way through the mass of bodies, his magnified eyes glued to a long strip of tickets in his hand. He joined his friends at the entrance to the Funhouse and handed each Loser a bunch of tickets before grabbing Eddie by his wrist and dragging him towards a row of carnival games.

Patrick’s attention drifted away from his friends and he gave them a two-fingered salute as he left them to their dick measuring. “Later, assholes.”

“Hey, where the hell are you going, Hockstetter?” Henry hollered after him. “You scared you’re gonna lose?”

“Terrified,” Patrick scoffed.

The entire length of Canal Street was packed with rigged games, every booth contributing to the cacophony of carnies yelling false promises about easy wins and guaranteed prizes.

“Are you having fun, fun, fun?” a freak in pasty clown makeup chuckled, honking his giant novelty horn in Patrick’s face.

His ears rang with the sound, the cigarette dangling from his lips falling on his boot.

_You found us, Patrick._

He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out his butterfly knife, pointing the blade at the asshole's grinning face. "Back off, Bozo, unless you want a permanent smile."

The clown raised his gloved hands, stumbling on his oversized shoes. "Relax, kid, I'm- I'm just doing my job, okay?"

Patrick watched the creep dart off into the opposite direction, his jaw clenched.

Fuck, he hated clowns.

He spun his knife in a lazy twirl, wandering from Whack-A-Mole to Skeeball and past a kissing booth that would probably give you mono until he finally spotted the losers at one of the ring toss games.

“Fuck! This shit is rigged as hell!” Richie yelled, tearing at his hair as his final ring missed the neck of the milk bottle. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled dollar bill. “Maybe I should give it one more try?”

Eddie grabbed Richie’s dollar and shoved it back into his pocket. “No way! You’ve wasted five dollars on this crap.” He nudged Richie with his elbow. “It’s okay, I don’t need a stupid stuffed toy, anyway.”

Patrick strolled to the booth, eyeing the rings Richie had attempted to toss around the row of milk bottles. “It looks like your aim’s a little off, Tozier.”

Richie and Eddie spun around, staring at Patrick like he was wearing a hockey mask and carrying a machete. Richie reached for Eddie’s hand, but caught himself at the last moment, taking in the crowd around them with nervous eyes.

“You stalking us or something?” Richie snapped, adjusting his glasses.

“What if I am?” Patrick leaned his hip against the booth and spun his knife between his fingers. “It’s a free country.” He glanced at the prizes piled on top of each other in a pastel-colored mountain of poodles and teddy bears. “Couldn’t win your boyfriend a prize, huh?”

Eddie balled his hands into angry fists and stomped his foot against the ground. “ _You_ give it a try, then! I bet you won’t do any better, asshole.”

“Well, I guess someone has to win you a cute little poodle.” Patrick jammed his knife into the counter and handed the ginger-haired beanpole in the booth a dollar bill. The kid looked like he was about to piss himself, his eyes fixed on the knife sticking out of the pockmarked wood as he handed out five plastic rings.

Patrick had no doubt that the game was rigged. He tossed his rings in the milk bottles’ general direction and watched them miss the necks one by one, just like Richie’s.

Eddie bounced on his heels, his smile gloating. “Ha! I knew it!”

Patrick yanked his knife out of the counter and turned his eyes to Ginger, one spin of the blade enough to have the guy reaching for the stuffed animals hanging from the ceiling of the booth.

“A-a-and we have a winner!” Ginger announced, handing Patrick a huge pink poodle.

Richie threw his hands in the air, his bug eyes darting between Patrick and the poodle in his hands. “Dude! What the fuck?”

“It’s all in the wrist, Tozier,” Patrick smirked, winking his eye at Richie. He inspected his furry prize and flicked his nail against the plastic heart hanging from the poodle’s collar. “I bet your boyfriend would look cute with one of these around his neck.”

Richie looked like he was about to blow steam from his ears as he watched Patrick hand the poodle to Eddie. “No fucking way.” He tore the toy from Eddie’s hands and spun on his heels, marching towards the nearest trash can.

“Richie, don’t!” Eddie cried out, saving the poodle as it was about to go down in the trash-filled maw of a plastic clown.

“You just said you didn’t want one!” Richie protested.

Eddie petted the poodle’s ear, pouting at Richie over its furry head. “Yeah, but I don’t want it to end up in the trash.”

Richie crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the poodle like it had pissed on his leg.

“Come on, Rich, it’s just a toy. It doesn’t mean anything,” Eddie said, batting his lashes at Richie like Daisy fucking Duck.

Patrick let out an amused snort as he watched the angry pinch between Richie’s eyebrows smooth out, his frown turning into a dumb grin.

The guy was fucking whipped.

“ _Fine,_ ” Richie groaned, tugging on the poodle’s flappy ear. “But I bet this thing has fleas.”

“Shut up,” Eddie huffed. He looked as dapper as he did in his school picture, page 28, third row, second on the left. And who knew a stupid yearbook could be as entertaining as the latest issue of _Juggs_.

Even Richie had made an effort to tame his mop of curls, the generous amount of gel he’d dumped on his head giving him the appearance of a wet rat.

Patrick had no idea if the little queers were on a date, but he had every intention to third wheel it. “So, you guys wanna check out the Funhouse?”

Richie shook his head so hard that his glasses slid down his nose. “Why the hell would we wanna go to the Funhouse with you?”

Patrick gave his knife a lazy spin and tapped the flat side of the blade against Richie’s cheek. “I’m sure you can think of a few reasons, Trashmouth.”

Richie blinked his magnified eyes at Patrick, his shoulders rising to his ears. “Come on, Hockstetter, you promised…”

“Y-yeah, you promised,” Eddie echoed, scowling at Patrick over his poodle.

Patrick dragged his tongue over his teeth, arching his eyebrows. “What exactly did I promise?”

“You said you’d keep our secret if we did as you told,” Richie hissed, nudging his glasses up his nose. A nervous tick, Patrick realized.

“I didn’t say anything about it being a one-time deal, though.”

“ _What?_ ” Richie stared at Patrick with a look of slack-jawed horror. He smacked his palm against his forehead and kicked at the plastic trash clown until it spilled out a bunch of mustard-stained napkins. “Fuck!”

“My thoughts exactly,” Patrick said, his smile stretching from ear to ear as he began to walk towards the Funhouse.

Richie lived up to his nickname and spat out an impressive litany of swear words. “I’m not doing this,” he announced.

“I don’t think we have a choice, Richie.” Eddie nudged the toe of his tennis shoe against Richie’s sneaker, setting after Patrick like he had an invisible leash around his neck.

Richie darted after them, jabbing his elbow into Patrick’s arm. “Don’t think this’ll become a regular thing, asshole.” He stood up on his toes, his whisper hot and angry against Patrick’s earlobe. “He’s _my_ boyfriend.”

Patrick threw his arm around Richie’s shoulder and pinched his cheek. “You’re pretty cute when you’re jealous.”

“Ugh!” Richie shrugged Patrick’s arm off his shoulder, his face like an overripe tomato. “Shut up, you creep.”

The front of the Funhouse was packed with kids, all waiting for their turn to march into the giant maw of the pasty-faced clown that served as the entrance. Patrick froze mid-step, his skin prickling as he watched a group of girls disappear into the gaping mouth.

“Aren’t we going in?” Eddie asked, pulling out his strip of tickets from his fanny pack. His gaze landed on Patrick’s hands and his brows pinched into a confused frown as he took in the tremble in his fingers.

Patrick shoved his hands into his pockets and dug his nails into his palms, something uneasy crawling under his skin as Eddie continued to stare at him. “I’m not paying for that shit. Come on, there’s an emergency exit in the back.”

They circled around the building and slipped into a dimly lit maintenance corridor, hidden behind a wall of mirrors at the back of the maze.

“I’m pretty sure we’re not supposed to be here,” Eddie pointed out, sounding like a little narc. “I mean, what if we get caught? I saw officer Nell in front of the food cart less than two minutes ago.”

“Relax, Kaspbrak. That Irish bastard is busy stuffing his face with hot dogs.” Patrick dragged his eyes up and down Eddie’s thighs. He’d watched the kid from the bleachers as he sped around the football field like greased lightning. “I’m sure a little track star like you can outrun an old pig.”

The corridor led to a small room full of monitors and switches that seemed to control all the lights and moving parts in the attraction. The maze beyond the room was full of kids running through the winding pathways, their screams and laughter echoing through the Funhouse.

Eddie pressed his palm against the wall of mirrors, watching two little girls try to find their way out of the maze. “Can they see us?”

Patrick waited for the girls to get close and banged his fist against the glass, laughing at their startled screams.

“I think it’s one-sided, Eds,” Richie said, waving his hand at the girls as they blinked at their own reflections. “Like those mirrors in the interrogation room in _Law & Order _.”

Eddie stuck his nose up, eyeing the dirty mop and bucket someone had left by the door. "It smells like puke in here. There's no way this place meets even a fraction of basic sanitary codes."

Richie folded his arms across his chest and shot Patrick an unimpressed look. "You mind telling us why we’re breathing old vomit fumes in the back room of a second-rate carnival attraction? You want us to give you another dumb show or something?”

Patrick crowded Richie against the mirror, taking advantage of their small height difference. “No show.” He ran his fingers up and down Eddie’s half-exposed thigh and slipped his thumb under the hem of his shorts. “I want in on the fun.”

Eddie tugged on his shorts, squirming under Patrick’s leering gaze. “I think your idea of fun differs from most sane people’s definition of the word...”

“Just so you know, we didn’t bring any sunscreen with us,” Richie said pointedly.

“That’s okay.” Patrick took out his wallet and slipped his fingers into the pocket behind his driver’s licence. He pulled out a combo strip of lube and a condom and tapped it against Richie’s nose. “I used to be a boy scout. I’m always prepared.”

“ _You_? A boy scout?” Eddie scoffed.

“Does that mean you know how to tie a noose?” Richie asked, glaring at Patrick like he wanted to be the one to hang him from the gallows.

Patrick wrapped his fingers around Richie’s neck, a caress with a warning. “Yeah. I do.” He dragged his thumb over the soft underside of Richie’s jaw and dug his nail into his jugular. “You wanna undress your boyfriend or should I do it for you?”

The question set a fire under Richie’s ass. He grabbed Eddie’s hand and dragged him to the opposite side of the room, shielding him from Patrick’s eyes as they began to undress. “I knew we shouldn’t have come to this lame-ass carnival,” he grumbled, unclasping Eddie’s fanny pack like a bra. "These things have sucked ever since that fucking clo—" Richie paused mid-sentence, glancing at Patrick over his shoulder. "Anyway. We should have snuck into that new Bruce Willis movie or something. The idiot usher always forgets to lock the loading dock door when he goes out for a smoke.”

Richie pulled Eddie’s shirt over his head and the atmosphere in the room jumped from mildly awkward to something that only existed in a middle school locker room with a PE teacher hounding everyone to hit the showers.

The air in their hideout was stuffy and warm, but Eddie’s nipples were stiff like two pink gumdrops, and judging by the tent in his shorts, the kid didn’t even remember he was being blackmailed.

Patrick dragged his palm over the fly of his jeans, shooting Eddie a lecherous grin. “Someone's eager.”

Eddie shimmied out of his shorts, glaring at Patrick like an angry little Groucho Marx. “Don’t flatter yourself, asshole.”

Patrick dropped his denim jacket on the floor and pulled his belt out of its loops, but left it at that, savoring the self-conscious hunch of Richie’s shoulders as he kicked his jeans and underwear down his legs. He wasn’t a pretty peach like Eddie, his limbs skinny and awkward, but the anger in Richie’s eyes sparked a special kind of fire in Patrick’s gut.

“Now what?” Richie snapped, wrapping his arms around his blotchy chest.

Patrick drummed his fingers against his thighs as he considered his options. Their afternoon in the quarry had provided him with plenty of jerkoff material, but even the best entertainment lost its shine over time, turning stale and uninteresting.

Patrick turned his eyes to Eddie and stroked his thumb against his bottom lip. “Your boyfriend ever eat you out?”

“Eat me out?” Eddie echoed, his nose scrunching with confusion.

Patrick walked a lazy circle around Eddie and dipped his fingers into the hollow of his tailbone. “Yeah, down here,” he smirked.

Eddie stuck his tongue out of his mouth, swatting Patrick’s hand away. “Gross!”

“Y-yeah,” Richie croaked, squirming like a skinny worm as he pressed his palms tighter over his crotch. “Totally gross.”

“I don’t know, it kinda looks like you might want a taste of that peach, Tozier,” Patrick said, eyeing the obvious boner Richie tried to hide under his palms.

Richie nudged his glasses up his nose, shooting Eddie a nervous glance. “Um. I guess I could give it a try, you know, if it’s not too weird or something?”

Eddie’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “Really?”

“I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t want to, Eds.”

Eddie rubbed his thighs together, the disgust on his face giving way to curiosity. “I guess we could give it a try?”

The corner of Patrick’s mouth twitched up. The kid was so easy.

Eddie knelt down to arrange their clothes into a makeshift bed like a little housewife, leaving the pink poodle to watch over his fanny pack. He gave the toy another glance and turned it around until it faced the wall, shielding its button eyes from their dirty deeds.

Patrick’s mouth curled up. “I thought you liked an audience.”

Eddie settled on his back, scowling at Patrick from his nest of clothes. “Are you assholes just gonna stand there and watch?”

“That’s your cue, Tozier.”

Richie settled between Eddie’s thighs, his brows pinched together like there was a particularly tricky math problem between his boyfriend’s legs.

“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Patrick sneered.

“Yeah! I mean, I think so?” Richie muttered, scratching his neck. “I just, uh, put my tongue in there?”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “That’s the gist of it, yeah.”

Eddie let out a startled squeak, his short legs sticking up at an awkward angle as Patrick pressed his palms against his ass and exposed the pretty pink bud between his cheeks.

Patrick smacked his palm against Richie’s neck, pushing his face between Eddie’s thighs.

“Mmmph!”

“Yeah, that’s it, get your tongue in there,” Patrick murmured, stroking his thumb against the base of Richie’s skull. “Fuck him with it, as deep as you can.”

Richie had no technique, but Patrick felt his greed in the strain of his muscles as he lapped at Eddie's hole.

“Oh!” Eddie sank his fingers into Richie’s hair, his feet kicking against his wiry shoulders.

“YoummkayEtthie?”

“Uh-huh.” Eddie tugged on Richie’s hair to pull him closer. “It’s—it’s not so bad,” he panted, his little cock red like a Jolly Rancher as he undulated his hips against Richie’s face. Talk about an understatement.

Patrick dragged his zipper down and stroked himself through the open fly of his jeans, but there was something under the arousal in his gut, thick and black like an oil stain. He watched Eddie’s mouth fall open around a wet moan and felt the thing expand, his jaw locking into a jealous grimace. He’d felt it before, years ago, and his fingers twitched around his erection as he thought of Avery, asleep in his cot, that same spill of jealousy driving Patrick to reach in and wrap his chubby hands around a pillow.

Patrick dug his fingers into Richie’s shoulder and yanked him back from his feast, taking his place between Eddie’s thighs.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Richie cried out, his glasses fogged up and chin wet with his own spit.

“I told you. I want in on the fun.”

Eddie smacked his palm against Patrick’s forehead, giving him a feeble push. “H-hey! I didn’t say _you_ could—ah!”

Five well-manicured fingers clutched at Patrick’s hair as he snaked his tongue into Eddie’s hole.

“I don’t want this,” Eddie insisted, his back arching off the nest of clothes as he ground his ass against Patrick’s mouth. “I-I don’t.”

Patrick blew out a snort of laughter through his nose. He gave Eddie’s rim another lick, slow and deep, but he didn’t resist when Richie yanked him back by his shoulders.

“I told you, he’s _my_ boyfriend, you jerk,” Richie snarled, his beetle-black eyes burning with jealous indignation.

Patrick flicked his tongue across his lips, arching his brow at Richie. "Sharing is caring.” He allowed Richie to reclaim his place between Eddie’s thighs, his attention drawn to a spot of slick on Eddie’s cheek. “You’re pretty flexible, aren’t you?”

Eddie watched him with glazed eyes, his thick brows pulling into a confused frown. “I guess?”

Patrick swiped his fingers over Eddie’s nose and licked the viscous drop into his mouth. “What do you say we put it to a little test?” He circled around to settle Eddie’s head between his thighs and yanked on his ankle, folding his body like a clam.

“What the hell are you doing, Hockstetter?” Richie asked.

Patrick’s eyes burned with a quiet mania as he cupped Eddie’s head in his palm and held it up. “Giving him what he wants.” He wrapped his fingers around Eddie’s cock, the pink head only inches away from his lips. 

“And what the fuck is that?”

“A mouth full of cock.”

“ _What?_ ” Eddie squirmed in Patrick’s hold, clawing at his wrists, but one tug at his silky locks brought him to heel. Patrick dragged his fist down the curve of his cock, forcing out another fat drop of slick on Eddie’s lips.

“No!” Richie protested, trying to pull Patrick’s hand away. “He hasn’t even done that to me, he won’t like it—”

Richie’s mouth fell slack as Eddie poked his tongue out, pink and tentative. He flicked it across his lips and scrunched his nose at the taste, but the glint of greed in his eyes betrayed him.

“You sure about that?” Patrick swiped his thumb over Eddie’s cock and slipped it between his lips. “Come on, open up.” Eddie glared up at Patrick, nipping at his thumb like an unruly kitten, but he parted his mouth, just enough for his cock to slip past his lips. “Yeah, that’s it,” Patrick murmured, his gut rolling with arousal. “You really are a little cockslut, aren’t you, Kaspbrak? Even your own will do.”

Eddie let out a humiliated whine, his throat bobbing with a wet gurgle as Patrick fed him another inch and even Richie looked like his brain was about to leak out of his ears as he watched Eddie’s mouth stretch around his own cock. “Do you—do you like that, Eds?”

Eddie swallowed around his cock, a trickle of spit spilling out from the corner of his mouth. “Mmmhm?”

“Wow. Okay. Uh. Okay.”

Patrick snorted at Richie's limited vocabulary, but the sight of Eddie with his lips wrapped around his own cock was pretty fucking spectacular.

He eyed the trail of milky liquid oozing past Eddie's lips and reached between his cheeks to play with his hole. "You're close, aren't you? Gonna jizz in your own mouth?”

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, his cheeks dusky under the smattering of his pretty freckles. “Mmmh.” His hole pulsed under Patrick’s fingertips, white globs of come spilling down his chin as his cock slipped out of his mouth.

“Holy shit…” Richie wheezed, gaping at Eddie like he was seeing his boyfriend for the first time.

Patrick hooked his finger under Eddie’s soft bottom lip and dragged his jaw down to inspect the white mess coating his tongue and molars. “Too much for you to swallow, Bambi? Want me to help?”

Eddie let out a startled squeal as Patrick bent down and pressed their lips together, dragging his tongue through the salty mess in his mouth.

“Eugh! Leggoofmeh!”

“You asshole!” Richie yelled, pummeling his fists against Patrick’s shoulders.

It appeared he’d crossed a line.

Thrilled at the realization, Patrick pulled away from Eddie and dragged Richie close by his hair.

“Hey! What the—” Richie let out a muffled groan as Patrick smashed their mouths together, but there was a brief, confused moment where he kissed back, his tongue slipping against Patrick’s.

Richie wrenched himself free, wiping his knuckles against his lips. “You’re fucking crazy!”

Patrick smacked his mouth like a satisfied housecat. “Didn’t stop you from slipping me the tongue,” he grinned.

“You wish…” Richie turned his eyes to Eddie who lay between them like a deflated fuckdoll, his brown eyes wide with a thousand-yard-stare. Richie cupped his face and scrubbed his thumb over the remaining mess on Eddie’s chin. “You okay, Eds?”

Eddie gave a little sniffle, leaning into Richie’s hands. "Y-yeah, I'm okay, Rich.”

Patrick watched the gentle exchange, the urge to poke and prod at their intimate little bubble pricking at his nerves. None of his previous hookups had ever given him the kind of moon eyes Eddie had for Richie, and the ones he didn’t ply with booze or weed tended to high-tail it out of his bed before third base.

"The fun’s not over yet, flamers,” Patrick reminded, waving the condom and the packet of lube in front of their faces.

Eddie glanced at Patrick’s crotch and turned his nose up, his mouth pulling into a prissy pout. "I want Richie to go first.”

"Fine by me," Patrick shrugged. "Provided that your boyfriend doesn't blow his load before he gets his dick wet."

Richie scowled at the insult, but he seemed to finally grasp the rules of their little game, aware that the ball was permanently in Patrick’s court.

Patrick hovered behind Richie’s back, close enough to count the wispy, dark hairs sticking out of his cheek where his razor had missed a spot. He tore the packet of lube open with his teeth and drizzled a slick line of it over Richie’s boner.

“Ah, fuck that’s cold!”

Patrick spread the lube over Richie’s cock with careful strokes, testing the waters. He clicked his tongue around a disapproving little _tsk_ as he felt Richie pulse in his grip. "You’re close.”

Richie shook his head, squirming against Patrick’s chest. "No I’m not…"

Patrick eyed the fat drop of pre-come rolling down his knuckles and dipped his finger into Richie's slit, forcing out another blurt of slick. "Liar." He tossed the packet of lube onto Eddie’s belly. “Better get that pussy wet fast, Bambi. This rocket’s about to go off.”

“Do you have to be so crude?” Eddie huffed, squeezing the remaining lube all over his fingers.

“Are you gonna wash my mouth with soap?” Patrick sneered, a faint taste of lemongrass flooding his mouth as he thought of his Grandma Theodora scrubbing his mouth for every disrespectful act, her wrinkled hands forcing lemony suds past his tightly-sealed lips.

Patrick didn’t believe in hellfire or eternal damnation like his parents, but he hoped the hag was frying over Satan’s hottest barbecue.

Eddie reached between his thighs, his bottom lip snagged between his teeth as he worked his lubed up fingers into his hole. And he was so pink inside, just like the little tabby that used to wander around the neighborhood before it joined Patrick's collection in the junkyard.

He reached out to thumb at Eddie’s hole, his eyes glazed as he rubbed it against the soft rim. He'd look so pretty in Patrick's fridge. Tan legs folded against his soft belly, eyes frozen in a perpetual look of horror as his insides became a feast for maggots.

Patrick snapped out of his reverie when another group of kids ran past their hideout, their laughter rising over the tinny carnival music that echoed throughout the Funhouse.

Richie squirmed against his chest, his eyes darting to the transparent glass wall. “Can we just do this before someone fucking catches us?”

“I don’t know, can you?” Patrick sneered.

And there was that delicious anger again, burning in Richie’s magnified eyes as he glared at Patrick over his shoulder.

Patrick rolled the condom on Richie’s cock, savoring the way his hips jumped as he dragged the latex down to the thatch of dark hair in his groin. He kept the reins in his own hands, guiding Richie’s cock to the pink furl of Eddie’s hole. “You don't come until I give you permission,” he warned, digging his fingers into the sharp jut of Richie’s hip bone. “Got it?"

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie nodded, already humping into Eddie like an overeager puppy.

There was no rhythm to his thrusts, but Eddie knew how to put on a show, a breathy litany of _yeah, yeah, Richie, that’s so good_ slipping out of his mouth. But that’s all it was. A show.

Patrick dragged his fingers down Richie’s flanks and dug his nails into his pelvis, forcing him to pause his mindless grinding. It was time to show the puppy how to do it right.

“Ow! What are you doing?” Richie whined, tugging at Patrick’s hands.

“Teaching you a trick or two.”

“I know how to fuck my own boyfriend,” Richie huffed.

“Trust me, Tozier, there’s room for improvement.” Patrick loosened his hold, allowing Richie to thrust back inside. “Go slow now.” Richie’s hips stuttered against Eddie’s ass, his skinny chest heaving as he tried to slow down his pace. “Yeah, that’s it. A little deeper, let him feel you. A slut like this wants to ache for days.”

“Fu-uh-uck you, Hockstetter,” Eddie panted, aiming a kick to Patrick’s flank.

Patrick caught him by his ankle, squeezing his fingers around the soft polyester of Eddie’s tennis sock. “Keep your claws in, kitty.”

Richie panted like a racehorse, the lube in Eddie’s ass leaking out with a wet squelch as he ground into him. “Fuck, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come.”

“You’d better pull out, then,” Patrick said.

Richie shook his head, gripping Eddie’s knees to grind himself deeper. “No way! I wanna come.”

Patrick smacked his palm against Richie’s ass, the pale skin blooming pink. “I said _pull out_.”

Richie whimpered, trembling against Patrick’s chest as he dragged his cock out, a fat drop of come already pushing into the condom.

“Deep breaths,” Patrick murmured, wrapping his fingers around the base of Richie’s cock. “Hold it in.”

Richie hunched over like he’d been hit in the solar plexus, his bucked teeth digging into his lip.

“You’re so mean,” Eddie grumbled. “Why can’t you just let him come?”

Patrick’s stomach rolled with a sadistic thrill as he slipped his finger under the rim of the condom, snapping it against Richie’s cock. “Because I like a well-trained puppy.”

"Jesus fucking— _Fuck!_ " Richie whimpered, clawing at Patrick's arm.

Patrick flicked his tongue against the salty mix of sweat and tears running down Richie’s cheek, breathing in the scent of his cheap aftershave. "You think you're ready to continue?"

Richie wiped at his eyes, his thighs trembling as he shook his head. “No.”

“Well, in that case, I think I'd better take over,” Patrick grinned. "You just catch your breath, puppy."

Richie didn’t accept his spot on the sidelines without an angry scowl, but he was too overwhelmed to do much protesting as Patrick shoved him aside and took his place between Eddie’s thighs.

Eddie pursed his mouth into a lemon-sucking pout and reached out for his poodle, pressing his face into its fluffy muzzle.

“You trying to hide?” Patrick grinned, looping his arms under Eddie’s knees to drag him closer.

He slipped inside before Eddie had a chance to realize there was no condom between them, the clutch of his hole soft like the velvet dress Patrick's mother had worn at Avery's funeral.

“I know you’ve been gagging for this all night, Bambi.”

“Shut uh-up, asshole _,_ ” Eddie snapped, every soft spot in his body jiggling like the prettiest cup of jello from the force of Patrick’s thrusts.

He let out a distressed little whine as Patrick dug his thumb into his hip, his tan skin bruising like a half-eaten fruit. He’d always enjoyed marking things. Angry, pink burns from his lighter, tiny cuts in half-rotting fur, and maybe, one day, his initials somewhere on Richie and Eddie’s soft flesh.

Eddie’s eyes flicked to the mirrored wall and he jerked like he’d been electrocuted. “Oh shit, it’s Beverly!”

Both Richie and Patrick whipped their heads around, and yeah, there stood Beverly Marsh, her palms pressed against the glass as she studied her reflection.

“There’s no way she can see us, right?” Richie whispered, hovering his palms over his erection.

Patrick’s mouth stretched into a wolfish grin. “I guess we’ll find out.” He ground his dick a little deeper into Eddie’s ass, laughing at the muffled whimper of _please don’t, don’t, don’t_ that spilled from Eddie’s lips.

“Are you insane?” Richie hissed, his voice strained with audible panic. “She’ll fucking hear us.”

“I guess you better stay quiet, then...” Patrick rolled Richie’s condom off and let it fall on the floor with a wet splat, dragging his fist up and down his cock in a slow, drawn out stroke.

“ _No_ ,” Richie whined, his eyes darting to the mirrors.

Marsh knocked her knuckles against the glass and for a brief, exciting moment, it almost looked like her eyes locked with Richie’s.

“Hello?”

Richie bit his lip, a fat drop of sweat rolling down his neck as Patrick tried to unravel his self-control.

Marsh looked away at a hurried stomp of feet. It was followed by an unmistakable stutter that had Eddie’s honey-wet cunt squeezing around Patrick like a vice.

“T-th-there you are, B-Beverly! D-duh-did you get lost?” Denbrough asked, his face ashy in the fluorescent lighting.

“No,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I just thought I heard something on the other side of these mirrors.”

Denbrough peered into the room, his eyes shifting over Eddie’s soft thighs, spread open around Patrick’s hips. “It’s j-j-just a wall. Come on, the others are waiting for us at the bumper cars and we still gotta f-ff-find Richie and Eddie.”

“Should we give them a little hint?” Patrick asked, rubbing his thumb over the head of Richie’s cock. He was so close now. A few more strokes and he’d be blowing his load in front of his friends.

Richie yanked on Patrick’s wrist, the muscles in his thighs trembling as he tried to hold on to the remaining shreds of his self-control. “Patrick, please.”

“Come on, puppy,” Patrick murmured, dragging his tongue over Richie’s jawline as he pumped his cock. “You can come now.”

“ _Oh fuck_.” Richie sank his nails into Patrick’s arm, his load splattering all over the mirror just as Denbrough pulled his eyes away from the glass.

He and Marsh continued their trek through the maze, but she glanced over her shoulder one last time. Her eyes lingered on the mirror, right over the spot where Richie’s load slid down in a wet mess.

Overwhelmed and overstimulated, Richie slumped down like someone had let the air out of him. Patrick dragged his fingers over his cock, savoring Richie's pained whimper.

“Good boy.”

Eddie seemed almost catatonic, clutching his toy against his chest like a safety-blanket. Patrick took his cock in his hand, still as hard as a shotgun roll.

“You enjoy the audience, Kaspbrak?”

“No, you asshole!” Eddie cried out, tossing the poodle at Patrick’s face.

Patrick laughed at his poor aim and squeezed his fist around Eddie’s cock. “I think you wanted to get caught, for Marsh and Denbrough to see what a little slut you are.” He slammed his cock into Eddie’s ass and felt a wet splatter on his knuckles as the kid whined through another orgasm.

Patrick brought his hand up and held Eddie’s gaze as he dragged his tongue through the mess of watery come on his fingers.

“Ugh, you’re so gross,” Eddie gagged.

Patrick’s mouth pulled into a crooked smile around his fingers. Shame was pointless. Even the busted lip he’d received from Henry after their private moment in the junkyard back in ‘89 had only managed to thrill him, the scar that ran across his upper lip a reminder of the discomfort and fear he’d seen on Henry’s face.

Patrick ground into Eddie’s ass, enjoying the mix of surprise and disgust on the kid’s face as he got his peach creamed.

“You didn’t wear a condom!” Eddie cried out, smacking his palms against Patrick’s shoulders to push him away.

“Oops?” Patrick grinned, aiming the final drops of his load over the bruise he’d left on Eddie’s hip.

“You’re such an asshole, Hockstetter,” Richie snarled, digging his elbow into Patrick’s flank. He helped Eddie up from the floor and used his Hawaiian print button up to clean the mess on his hips.

Patrick zipped up his jeans and grabbed his jacket from the floor, pulling out his pack of smokes. He'd got what he wanted, his veins still thrumming with the pleasure of his release, but the anger in Richie's eyes had faded into dull resignation and Eddie's shell-shocked expression no longer held his interest.

Richie shoved his legs into his jeans, his face gray like he was about to empty his stomach all over his sneakers. “There’s no way we’re doing this again,” he announced, yanking Eddie’s shorts up and attaching the clasp of his fanny pack with an angry _click_.

“Definitely not in public,” Eddie nodded.

“Anywhere!”

“Yeah, I, uh, that’s- that’s what I meant,” Eddie stammered.

Patrick lit his cigarette, rolling the filter between his teeth. “Sure you did, Bambi.” He blew out a cloud of smoke in Richie’s face and pulled out a half-dry sharpie from his pocket, grabbing a hold of Eddie's arm while his boyfriend was busy coughing up a lung. He pressed the felt tip to Eddie's clammy palm and scrawled his number over a pink scar in big, bold strokes. “Give me a call when you’re ready for round three.”

**Author's Note:**

> Patrick uses homophobic slurs, feminizes Eddie, verbally humiliates Richie and Eddie, fucks Eddie bareback, Richie and Eddie's consent is dubious. There are also brief mentions of dead animals and infanticide and Patrick fantasizes about putting Eddie into his fridge in the junkyard.


End file.
